


we move like the ocean (but i can't swim)

by minervamylove



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing machines, F/F, Fluff, Insecure Hecate, Prompt Fill, Useless lesbian Hecate just wants to stare at ada 24/7, cackle's staff on holiday, dimity knows what's up, gay pining, let's be real everyone knows what's up, room sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minervamylove/pseuds/minervamylove
Summary: Hecate Hardbroom would do anything for Ada Cackle... even go swimming.





	we move like the ocean (but i can't swim)

**Author's Note:**

> \- Tumblr prompt fill for cassiopeiasara: Hackle on holiday at the seaside 
> 
> \- I know Miss Mould still being in Cackle's employ might be weird but let's face it, Ada gives everyone 5000 chances, and art could conceivably be taught without magic.
> 
> \- Title from the song "We Move Like the Ocean" by Bad Suns

Despite being as firmly in control of her faculties as ever, Hecate had no idea how she’d ended up in this particular predicament. She suspected Dimity was behind it. Were it not for the fact that the summer holidays had begun weeks ago, she might have been inclined to blame Mildred Hubble, but as it was, Mildred, like the rest of her peers, was home for the holidays and therefore not in a position to be causing trouble for her form mistress. Oh, how Hecate wished that she, like one of her wayward students, was at home! _Home_ , of course, meant Cackle’s Academy. _Home_ meant her rooms (neat and rather Spartan but also safe and familiar), her rather enviable collection of potions texts, her herb garden, and her— she chastised herself, striking out the possessive determiner in her mind as aggressively as if it were an error in a student’s essay— and Ada Cackle herself. Of course, Ada was here with her, in this… seashell-studded _hell_ , but the circumstances made that more of a curse than a blessing. Oh, yes, Dimity Drill was going to pay for this. One way or another.

“Hecate, dear?” Ada’s voice recalled Hecate to the here and now, interrupting her vengeful daydream about squashing the gym mistress’s beloved Sports Day like a bug beneath the heel of her boot. _Dear_ … a flush ran up her neck, mercifully concealed by the high collar of her dress, and Hecate berated herself again. _She calls everyone ‘dear.’ Cease this sentimental nonsense immediately, Hecate Hardbroom._ “Are you quite all right? Did you hear Dimity?” Ada peered at her curiously, brow wrinkled and blue eyes filled with concern.

Hecate centered herself, wishing to erase the worry from her friend’s features. “Apologies, Ada, I was… lost in thought.”

Ada smiled, expression awash in gentle understanding. “Not to worry, dear. Dimity was just explaining the rooming situation. It seems that this cottage is a bit smaller than we were led to believe.”

“Sleeps six, all right,” Dimity interjected, not at all helpfully. “But only three bedrooms. Gwen and Algernon have already claimed the one down the hall.” She jerked her chin in the direction of said bedroom, and indeed, upon glancing around the small sitting room in which the Cackle’s staff currently stood, Hecate noticed that the chanting mistress and spell science master were nowhere to be seen. “I’ll share the back bedroom with Marigold,” Dimity continued. “That leaves you and the headmistress upstairs, HB.”

Even as the flush crept back up Hecate’s neck, the rest of her body seemed to cease the production of heat entirely, going cold and clammy. This situation was far worse than she had initially realized. It was bad enough that they were on the first ever Cackle’s all-staff holiday, ostensibly to relax after the disaster with the Founding Stone that had nearly decimated the school and had stripped Marigold Mould of her witch’s powers (Hecate rather thought that the incident should have cost Marigold her job, too, but Ada loved to insist upon second chances). It was bad enough that this particular holiday was to the seaside of all places, all sun and sand without a library or laboratory in sight. And now Hecate was expected to share sleeping quarters— she refused to let the word _bedchamber_ cross her mind in all its intimacy— with Ada. Ada, her employer and mentor; Ada, her dearest friend. Ada, who Hecate treasured and adored far more than she could ever let the other woman know.

Hecate wasn’t exactly sure when she had fallen head-over-heels in love with Ada Cackle. She _was_ sure, however, that she needed to keep those feelings very much to herself. Algernon and Gwen aside, falling for one’s colleague was not the done thing, especially not when that colleague was the headmistress! Not when that colleague was Ada— perfect, soft, pink _Ada_ — who did not deserve to be saddled with the undesirable affections of a dour, spindly thing like Hecate Hardbroom.

“Well, that’s settled,” Ada said cheerfully. “Well, Hecate, let’s see what’s waiting for us, shall we?”

Hecate followed Ada up the stairs, wanting desperately to use a transfer spell but unwilling to arrive in the room before Ada. The bedroom was small, like everything else in the cottage— a dresser by the door, two twin beds against the far wall, and a round window that overlooked the sea. Hecate found that she… didn’t hate it. The room was plain, far more tasteful than the downstairs with its gaudy seashell decorations, and the view from the window was actually quite lovely.

“Oh yes, this will do nicely.” Hecate jumped as Ada joined her at the window and nudged it open— she hadn’t noticed the other woman crossing the room. “I do so love the ocean,” Ada sighed happily as she gazed out at the waves. Hecate took the opportunity to study Ada out of the corner of her eye. The headmistress looked serene, as if the salty breeze that stole through the window had smoothed the cares from her brow. And Ada had shouldered so many cares over the past couple of years: Agatha’s schemes, the Board’s attempts to discredit the school, the Founding Stone fiasco… if the sight and smell of water was enough to carry all of that away from Ada, Hecate decided suddenly, in a great fierce rush of feeling, then she was glad they were here, pleased that they had come on this daft holiday. She could bear anything, she thought, _anything_ , if it brought such peace to Ada’s eyes— eyes that were as blue as any ocean, and infinitely more precious.

“Now,” Ada clapped her hands and then clasped them together, spinning towards Hecate like a giddy schoolgirl. “Let’s go swimming!”

 _Anything for Ada,_ Hecate reminded herself as she followed her back down the stairs, _anything for Ada._ She had a feeling that she would need to keep repeating this mantra if she was going to make it through the entirety of the holiday.

Dimity and Marigold were waiting for them outside the cottage. Gwen and Algernon still hadn’t reappeared, a fact which Hecate refused to contemplate further. It was a short walk down to the water’s edge; the cottage was separated from the sea only by a shallow dune. Once again, Hecate was forced to forgo a transference spell in order to remain at Ada’s side, as it appeared that the headmistress was enjoying the leisurely stroll through the dune grass. Marigold transferred to the beach immediately to set up her easel, and Dimity went running across the dune, whooping like a child.

When Hecate and Ada reached the water, Ada kicked off her black cat-whiskered flats immediately and sank her toes into the surf. “Lovely,” she sighed, closing her eyes. 

_Lovely_ indeed, Hecate thought, unable to tear her eyes away from Ada. Her gray skirt billowed in the wind and her head was tilted back, as if Ada was relaxing into an embrace created by the elements. Her silver hair danced (and so did Hecate’s heart, much to her own consternation).

“Enjoying the scenery, are we HB?” Hecate whirled around to face Dimity, who had stopped careening around like a sugar-buzzed first-year and was staring smugly up at her.

Hecate’s heart stopped dancing, and started to race instead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed. “It’s much like any other body of water. Hardly remarkable.”

“Oh, you and I both know that we’re not talking about the ocean.”

“I,” Hecate repeated through gritted teeth, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Dimity winked and tapped the side of her nose. “We’ve neither of us a clue.”

“Hecate,” Ada called over her shoulder, “Come here, the water’s marvelous!”

“I’ll just… help,” Dimity said, and before Hecate could ask her what exactly she meant by that, the sports mistress waved her hand and vanished Hecate’s high-heeled black boots. Hecate let out an extremely undignified squeak as she stumbled forward, wheeling her arms like a windmill. She only narrowly avoided falling flat on her face in the wet sand, and only because of the hands that encircled her biceps, gently (oh, so gently) holding her upright. Hecate slowly met the eyes of her rescuer, knowing what she would see but hardly daring to believe it.

“Careful, dear.” Ada spoke lightly, but her eyes were twinkling merrily. She ran her hands along Hecate’s arms— _up, down, up, down_ — in a manner that seemed intended to soothe as well as check for injury. Hecate was not soothed. On the contrary, she felt as if she might faint from the knowledge that Ada was touching her. “Dimity,” Ada leveled a stern glance around Hecate, “Do try to avoid vexing Hecate more than you absolutely must.” Dimity gave Ada a cheerful salute and made her way toward Marigold. _Practically skipping_ , Hecate thought sourly.

But then all thoughts of Dimity were erased rather forcefully from her mind as Ada released her arms, took a step back, and waved her hand in front of her own chest in a slow half circle, exchanging her skirt and cardigan for a bathing costume. Well, _costume_ might not be precisely the right word. It was a bathing suit, far more modern and Ordinary than Hecate would have expected from Ada— if she’d expected anything, which she had not, because she definitely did not _ever_ spend time thinking about Ada in any state of undress. The bottom piece of the suit was the same gray as her skirt, the lines tracing the curves of her ample thighs and rising to a high waist. The top was pale pink, loose and flowing, with thin shoulder straps. Ada’s arms and legs were truly, gloriously bare. Even a strip of soft, pale belly was visible between the two halves of the suit.

Hecate barely kept herself from making another embarrassing squeaking sound, but she couldn’t stop the blush that was surely coloring her cheeks as bright pink as one of Ada’s favorite jumpers. Ada, mercifully, didn’t seem to notice, just waded into the surf, inviting the waves to kiss her bare skin. “Oh,” she sighed, “It’s wonderful.” She turned to look at her deputy and then frowned slightly, as if she had only just noticed that Hecate hadn’t moved an inch since the loss of her shoes and subsequent near face-plant. “Are you going to come in?”

“I…” Hecate blushed still more furiously, then stammered, “Hold— hold on just a moment.” _Anything for Ada_ , she reminded herself. She raised her hand and waved it— but instead of changing her clothing, she transferred herself a quarter mile down the beach, where an old-fashioned bathing machine, left over from decades gone by, still waited, its wheels half buried in the sand. Materializing inside, Hecate collapsed onto a bench, breathing deeply. All right. This would do. She would simply use the bathing machine like an Ordinary woman of old, changing into her swim clothes and slipping into the water before anyone could get a good look at her. Hecate took another steadying breath and then cast the spell to change her clothing, exchanging her usual black dress for a modest black and white striped bathing costume, nearly a century out of fashion, which, although it left her arms bare, covered her entire torso and fell nearly to her knees. _There_. She wasn’t exquisite like Ada, but she would do. Particularly if no one got too close.She was as ready as she’d ever be; it was time to descend into the water.

There was a slight _pop!_ and Hecate nearly screamed as Ada materialized inside the bathing machine. “Hecate, are you all right? You left so quickly…” Ada trailed off, her eyes sweeping up the column of Hecate’s tall frame. Hecate thought she heard her gasp, so softly that she might have imagined it. “Hecate,” Ada began again, slowly, “You’re…”

Hecate laughed— harshly, without mirth. She couldn’t help it. “A fright,” she said, finishing Ada’s sentence as she dropped her gaze down to her feet, which looked so odd, flat upon the wooden floor without her boots. “I know. I know.”

“No,” said Ada quietly, looking dumbfounded. Then she shook her head and repeated herself, louder this time. “No. Hecate, you’re…beautiful. _Magnificent_.”

Hecate felt as though she’d been hit over the head with a broomstick. Ada thought she was beautiful? Her eyebrows had flown up so high she was no longer certain that they were attached to her forehead.

Ada took in Hecate’s expression, and her own brow furrowed. “Oh,” she said, “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry, Hecate, that was incredibly inappropriate of me. I’ll just…”

“No!” Before she quite knew what she was doing, Hecate had thrown herself forward, wrapping her fingers around Ada’s wrists. She let go just as quickly, blushing furiously. “I’m sorry. I mean… Ada, _you’re—_ ”

Ada’s expression was shifting, brightening as if in dawning realization. She lifted a hand and reached up, letting the tips of her fingers brush along Hecate’s pronounced cheekbone. Hecate shivered, but did not back away. She almost wanted to close her eyes as she leaned into Ada’s touch, but to do so would mean losing the ability to see Ada, flushed and warm and soft before her. “Hecate,” Ada breathed, “Dear, _dear_ Hecate.”

Dizzy, Hecate repeated the word _dear_ to herself, wondering how long she’d been getting it wrong, how long that word had meant what she had so badly wanted it to mean. She bent her forehead down until it rested against Ada’s. “Ada,” she said, and her voice was gentler than she had ever let it be, “My lovely Ada.”

Both Ada and Hecate forgot about swimming. They forgot about the world outside the painted wooden bathing machine, forgot about the waves lapping at its underside. There were more important things to focus on: the press of lips to lips, the soft caress of fingers against warm skin, the delicious little breaths that could be coaxed out and stolen away. And when they finally did emerge, flushed despite their break from the sun, it was with the knowledge that sharing a room for the rest of the holiday was not going to be a problem.


End file.
